


In the Safe Room

by EllieSpirelli



Series: Tales from the Safe Room [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 01:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieSpirelli/pseuds/EllieSpirelli
Summary: "Janie, I’m happy to report that playing dead definitely works. Even better when you actually get yourself shot and are bleeding all over the place."After an attack on the labs, Darcy is alone in the safe room, bleeding.





	In the Safe Room

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so it's been ages since I've written anything and even longer since I posted anything. I'm just trying to get back into writing and I love Darcy as a character, hopefully I don't mangle her too much. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Darcy counted to 20 after she could no longer hear the footsteps. Slowly, carefully, she opened her eyes, blinking into the bright light. 

And came face to face with the dead eyes of Dr Elklow. 

Taking a deep breath to keep from screaming, she carefully surveyed the rest of the lab. She was alone. Or as alone as one could be in a room full of destroyed lab equipment and dead bodies. Slowly, careful not to jostle her left leg, she pushed herself to a sitting position. Thankfully her glasses were still on her nose and in one piece, even though they were somewhat crooked now. Her purse was still slung across her body, the thumb drive still safely hidden inside. The bullet wound in her leg was bleeding. The pain was bad but manageable. 

Carefully, Darcy manoeuvred her body into a standing position. The safe room was across the lab, maybe ten steps. Using fallen tables and equipment to help steady herself, she made it three steps before her leg gave out and she collapsed right next to the body of Dr Elklows lab assistant, Gregory. Darcy’s head was a bit fuzzy. She simply stared at him for a few long moments. A noise in the lab above her pulled her back to herself. She needed to get to the safe room. 

Taking Gregory’s belt with her, Darcy used a rolling chair to pull herself back to her feet. Someone had left their lab coat draped over the back of the chair, so she grabbed it. She needed to get to the safe room. Hangling herself from chair to desk to desk, Darcy made the remaining steps to the wall containing the hidden access panel. When the door finally opened, Darcy practically fell into the tiny space. The door slit shut behind her.  
With her back against the wall, Darcy took a few deep breaths and again took stock. 

She had reached the safe room. Check. Her leg was still bleeding. Double-check. She had Gregory’s belt and the lab coat. Good. Using the belt to fashion a tourniquet for her right leg, she pressed the folded sleeve of the lab coat against the bullet wound. For a second her vision whitened out from the pain before steadying again. What was she doing again? Taking stock, right. So, safe room, check. Leg bleeding less, check. Handbag, check.

Darcy pulled her handbag around, so she could dig into it without jostling her leg too much. Her phone sat right on top of her purse and it was still fully charged. On the downside, there was no reception.

“This was totally going to happen. I’m stuck here in a safe room, nobody knows where I am and I’m slowly bleeding to death. Great.” She chuckled weakly. “And now I’m actually talking to myself. Way to go, Darcy. Welcome to insanity.” She loosened the tourniquet a little to keep the blood circulation going. Then she pulled up the recording function on her phone.

“Stardate: whatever the hell this is. It’s still Thursday, only one hour 42 minutes since I stopped to see Dr Elklow on my way out for coffee.  
I’m in the safe room in Elklow’s lab, by myself. Everyone else is dead. Janie, I’m happy to report that playing dead definitely works.  
Even better when you actually get yourself shot and are bleeding all over the place. So, um, personal assessment, okay. I was shot in the thigh.  
I think the bullet is still in the wound, at least it feels awful when I move and I can’t find an exit wound. I have lost a lot of blood. Can’t estimate how much, because a lot if it is on the other side of the safe room door. I managed to get Gregory-the-lab-assistant’s belt and make a tourniquet.  
Yes, I’m remembering to periodically loosen the belt a little to keep the blood flow intact. I also grabbed someone’s lab coat and am using that to put pressure on the wound. They won’t mind the blood because they are dead. Oh gods, they are dead, everyone is dead out there and there is so much blood everywhere and – deep breaths, Darcy. Just take a few deep breaths. That is better. Focus on the facts. A-okay. Apart from the leg, I’m more or less okay. Some cuts and bruises.  
Still have my glasses and they are not even cracked. Back to the assessment. I’m huddled in the panic room. No-one knows where I am because I should have been outside the building. Friday is down. There is no phone signal because the suckers carrying machine guns and killing everyone are jamming the place.  
I’m bleeding. There is no food or water in here with me. Tony, this is something that should really be addressed, together with a decent med kit and something more comfy to sit on than the floor. Jane, if I get out of this alive, remind me to start carrying an emergency dose of morphine. God, this really hurts. Son of a bitch.  
But I guess, hurting is good. When it stops to hurt is when I should start to get really worried, right? So, uh, I’ll just keep talking to distract myself from the fact that my leg is on fire and from all that pretty blood dripping to the floor. It’s a really pretty colour. Damn it, Darcy, keep it together. Jane, I’m going to go all sappy now and I know that you would shout at me if you heard me say this, because it sounds whaaaay too much like I’ve given up and I really, really haven’t. Given up.  
But my situation is not really all that great and my leg fucking hurts – it’s the right leg, by the way, and the wound is at a bad angle, so I can’t even put pressure on it properly. I just need to distract myself and I really don’t want to leave anything unsaid in case this does go south and it really looks like it might do that.  
Jane, applying for that internship with you was the best decision I ever made. You taking me on – I know it was because I was the only applicant! – was the best thing that ever happened to me. I love working with you – please note the present tense here – and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I don’t regret anything.  
Seriously, no regrets. And before you ask – no, not even kissing Ian the Intern or hooking up with Sven the reindeer guide. He did that thing and – well, let’s not talk about that. Back to the topic at hand. Jane, I love working with you. I loved camping out in the Mexican desert with you, watching the stars and drinking tequila.  
While driving into a fricking tornado was not quite my idea of fun, hitting an alien god with a car and then tazering him makes for one hell of a story. So does hacking databases and creating fake IDs for said alien god. I loved that I got to see so much more of the world. And I don’t mean just geographically, although Norway and the UK and Australia were great. I’m just sorry I might miss Alaska and Hawaii – because one day we will totally need to go to Hawaii, right? And I love coffee and poptarts and tequila and ice cream with you. Btw, Cookie Dough is a way better flavour than cinnamon roll. So there. And if I should die in this crappy safe room, Jane, don’t you dare blame yourself for this! You gave me a place to stand and a family away from my crappy folks. Every decision I made to get me here was my own, even going down to Dr Elklow’s lab, just so that I could let him down in person. The only ones responsible for what is happening today are the stupid people toting guns and shooting at random unsuspecting scientists. Btw, I’m pretty sure it was Elklow’s assistant Gregory who conspired with the enemy – god, I always wanted to say that! There was some sort of chit-chat between him and gunman leader, before they shot him. Too bad, so sad.” Darcy stays silent for a few moments.  
Time is running and she is still bleeding. Her head feels woozy from the blood loss and she desperately wants to lie down. But lying down would mean moving her leg and that hurts. It takes her three tries to adjust the tourniquet, her fingers are not cooperating. She blinks a few times to clear her vision, then decides to just put her head back and close her eyes for a few minutes.

“James, meeting you was the second-best thing that ever happened to me. Meeting Jane was, hands down, the best, because without meeting her, I never would have met you. And not meeting you, well, let’s not talk about that. Just thinking about it now makes me sad. You make me feel so save, that I could do anything.  
In this crazy world full of aliens and secret agencies and spies and robots, falling in love with you was the craziest thing that happened to me. And I know everyone thinks that I’m the one looking after you, but it’s really the other way around. When I have late nights at the lab, you come by to bring me water and a snack and later to steer my crazy, sleep-deprived self home. And don’t you deny it, I know that when I finally face-plant into bed after a science bender, you’re the one who confiscates my phone and locks my door for at least ten hours, so I can sleep. Since we met, I have never once been scared of walking through the streets by myself after dark, because I know that you are following me and keeping watch over me. And I know this should creep me out, in an an-assassin-is-stalking-me kind of way and just a regular this-guy-is-stalking-me way, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel save. And I haven’t felt save, really save, since I don’t know when.  
And don’t you deny it, I know you were following me. Just like I know you sometimes camp out in my living room or outside my door to make sure I’m okay.  
James, I’m so tired. My leg barely hurts anymore. I promise, I’m not giving up, I’m holding on as long as I can. But I’m so tired. So very, very tired. ‘m sorry I’m going to miss our date. But I promise… m holding on… rest… promise…. Promise…..”

Darcy’s voice trails off as she slips into unconsciousness. She doesn’t notice when the door to the save room is ripped open, nor when two arms – one flesh, one metal – reach down to gently pick her up and cradle her to a chest. She doesn’t notice being carried down the hall and several flights of stairs, down to medical. She doesn’t notice the panicked and frenzied shouting, the mad rush of doctors already spread thin, the smell of antiseptic mixed with blood and gunpowder.

There are machines beeping. There is no pain. The bed underneath her is soft. The room is dimly lit, not too bright. Blinking her eyes open, they fix on a figure leaning against the wall next to the door. A figure dressed in black tactical gear holding a gun. A figure with blue eyes. Darcy smiles.


End file.
